Her distraction spoke of deep thought, and more, a lack of grasping his underlaying intent. Or, if the woman had indeed felt the stirrings his voice and implications could provoke within many mortal souls, she hid it well with absent eyes and the gathering of thin, rusted spokes. It irritated him not to have her entire attention - Sirius was spoilt by his own nature, often lavished with the gazes of others for every syllable to fall from his wicked black lips. That she evaded the temptation his voice offered was insulting, but the man was not a petty creature, and he found worth even within this slight rejection.
Her reply seemed purposefully ambiguous, designed to baffle, or perhaps not designed for him at all. For while they were two strangers having an interviewing conversation, it seemed each spoke to themselves as much as to the other. Large coyote ears flicked backward, and pupils narrowed in their engorged mass of acidic olive as the thorny monarch mulled over the sentiments she proposed. The ideas were alien - home spoke of affinity, of the belonging sense that an occupant could grow for a certain location or territory. Sirius felt such connection with the unruly harshness of Salsola; It was a harsh land that bred harsh people. He wouldn't have had it any other way. Why then, would this exotic Fae not see it fit to invest herself in any place? If she were a pilgrim, as she spoke, then perhaps home had been stolen from her.
The dark male's ponderous thoughts were dismissed as she continued to babble, valuable words and ideas wrapped in a disguise of mere afterthought. Such things did not catch his interest, and finding his attentiveness for the woman at a plateau, Sirius straightened when she did. Her next words were of more value to him, and the male flashed her a sharp crocodilian smile that brought no warmth to his dangerous facade. "Yes, I assume you will," He spoke imperiously, for that was his nature, but something insidious flickered within his gaze. The value of debt was never to be underestimated, even to such a little degree as this.
He left the pelt in the dirt and grasses, not needing to retrieve it. He was a king - His room was filled with more precious and exotic skins than that of a simple hare. While the southern land was filled with hardship, it also fostered bounties beyond imagining, and these were well displayed in the wealth of the King's chamber. Sirius did not think to consider that the act of leaving such scraps would clearly puncture his story of being a simple traveler - A traveler would never leave behind a pelt, not if it could be used or bartered. With a fluid movement, he swung back up onto the back of the silver mare, and sat confidently as she snorted and wheeled. "May we meet again, pilgrim, if luck is with you on your travels," A devilish grin showed the falseness to his words, but was lost from sight as the monarch turned his steed and thundered off back the way he had come.
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